


Show Me the Light

by fuckener



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckener/pseuds/fuckener
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Sam make different realisations from living together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me the Light

p class="MsoNormal">Cheating on somebody should, he thinks, but at the time Sam's lips are soft and just as scared against his, and Sam's hands are rising to spread across his shoulders like he wants him to stay and unlike the rest of Kurt's world, Sam would never hurt him, not once, not at all, and he knows it, too. The kiss is boyishly sweet and a charming, careful kind of awkward – it's Sam, really, and in Kurt's mind, _Sam_ has always been a word for strange, nice things like overly festive Christmas wrapping paper and too-strong sunshine.

Sam pulls back with red cheeks and long exhale of breath that trembles and falters in time to the beat of his heart against Kurt's chest. He blinks and licks his lips like he's left a spot of ice-cream there and not the taste of Kurt (a clean peppermint taste, he likes to think; he certainly tries his best to make it so). "I liked that," is what Sam huffs out against his burnt up cheekbone, close enough for Kurt to feel the smiling quirk of his lips – it feels odd, maybe a little twisted with fear like Kurt's used to feel spread hopelessly across his face whenever he looked at his father, pictures of his mother, himself, anybody around him at all that could have found him abominable: _anybody_ , really.

They're still clutching at each other, Kurt's hands maybe a little too tightly curled around Sam's big arms and Sam's big arms maybe a little too tightly curled around him. "Me too," Kurt says, agreeably, because lying has never done boys like them any good. He swallows and when he looks up into Sam's deep green eyes the kitchen lights almost blind him, and in their glare Sam's hair is in soft strands of white and Sam's cheeks are a saturated, burning shade of crimson, the colour drifting down his skin past the collar of his shirt – and further, probably, Kurt thinks, the stain seeping into the dimples in the small of Sam's nice back and slipping lower still, maybe, but Kurt stops himself thinking _any_ further that that. He clears his throat and smiles, a little.

Sam looks a little terrified and flustered but mostly Kurt just thinks he looks happy, more than he thinks anyone's gotten to see him before. More than he's ever gotten to be.

-

They don't speak about it, exactly, but Sam begins visiting his room just to sit in and feel okay (that's what he says when Kurt asks him about it, shrugging and looking at Kurt with eyes that look startlingly clear: _it makes me feel okay_ ) and sometimes Sam even talks about how he likes to kiss boys, and sometimes he even asks about how Kurt likes to kiss them, too. It's a surprisingly quiet resolve to Sam's surprisingly loud kitchen freak-out over girls ( _it– it doesn't make me feel at all, why doesn't it make me feel at all_ ) but Kurt knows better than to push, especially to push Sam, who's taken long enough to get to Point A to Point A and a Half as it is.

"So," Sam asks one day, fiddling down with the buckle of his belt so he has something to do and somewhere to stare at while he talks, which is how Kurt knows whatever he says isn't going to be about _Skyrim_ like the majority of things he says lately. He glances furtively in Kurt's direction with his teeth biting down on his bottom lip, the one Kurt's learned fits like a mould between the two of his. "I think I like guys... So."

Even though Kurt knows – and has for a _while_ – he still blinks in surprise at the words actually being said they still make his stomach feel hot and giddy to listen to. This is his field; it shouldn't make him so speechless to be confronted by. He composes himself, arching an eyebrow and Sam thinks he likes guys, _so._ "Isn't it nice?" he asks, almost drawls, giving Sam a smile even if he's still refusing to look up and see it.

But Sam still listens to him, and he laughs back, too, looking up at Kurt with smiling, crinkled eyes while he shakes his head and scratches idly at the back of it. "Yeah." He leans back onto his hands, onto Kurt's bed and grins back at him, broad and crooked. "It kind of is."

They smile at each other a moment longer and Kurt's heart ricochets back and forth off the sides of his chest the entire time before he makes himself look away, at the mediocre television show Sam loves with all his heart: and he thinks it kind of is, too.

-

On Saturday, Kurt wakes up at six in the morning, showers, styles his hair and slips on the outfit he arranged the night before. He leaves his room in time to find Sam, pulling on his dad's suitcase and whistling his dad's music under his breath, blinking across the hall at Kurt with a sleepy smile. His hair is a mess and his clothes are all sitting crooked and creased on his and he has that hint of prickly teenage boy stubble Kurt loathes and – Kurt thinks he looks really, ridiculously hot for seven in the morning.

"You get up this early on _Saturdays_?" Sam asks, shutting the guest room door with a click and grinning, because Sam's always, always finding something to grin about - today, he gets to go home.

"Only if I have plans." Kurt smiles at him. It isn't the smile he should be giving to Sam, or any boy that isn't the one he thinks he's still dating: it's too big, maybe, and Kurt knows his eyes are showing so many dangerous things whenever they find Sam lately but he can't stop it anymore.

He offers to help Sam haul his suitcase downstairs but Sam waves him off, taking it down by himself with one arm. "Like half of this is just drawings from Stevie."

Kurt perches on the arm of the living room couch and stares at Sam's second-hand suitcase when he disappears into the kitchen, fidgeting with the collar of his new shirt. It takes a moment for him to stop pressing his lips tightly together and fussing over himself, stilling at the sound of Sam returning with a bagel hanging out of his mouth.

He grins and drags his suitcase back to his side, pulling Kurt in with one arm for a quick hug. "Be back Monday," he announces as he steps out the front door, waving his bagel over his head in goodbye, a clean bite taken from the side of it.

Even though Sam doesn't see it, Kurt still waves, fingers fluttering and lingering a moment too long in the air. Sam smells like cheap deodorant and the house air-freshener - a scent he definitely finds a lot less appealing on his step-brother, thankfully.

He sighs and gets back onto his feet, trudges back upstairs to his room to slip back into his pyjamas and sleeps for another few hours.

(Sam's left him two texts when he wakes up – the first says, _might have forgot to make my bed today sorry_ ; and the second is from an hour later, and all it says is, _:)_.)

-

Kurt intends to break up with Blaine, which is an easy thing to hold off doing when he sees Blaine every day, restless and awkward on the opposite side of their coffee table, also fully intending to break up with him.

They've always talked around things – it was cute, then it was frustrating, then it was just bad excuses about why they couldn't have sex tonight, why Blaine had to get home to Westerville early or why Kurt had to cook for family dinner night at his house (with emphasis on 'family', and without the addendum of 'because Sam is over, and I want him to know how nice my Zuppa Toscana is'). He knows kissing Sam was wrong, even just once, and maybe since then he's been less than innocent; but he knows there's a reason Blaine made the beaver-toothed Warbler who got 'friendly' with him this year stop showing up at the Lima Bean, and Kurt's pretty sure it's guilt. Kurt's also pretty sure more goes down in the Dalton (horny) boys dorms which are supervised by senior (hornier) boys than does in his home, and the ( _horniest_ , if Kurt includes himself) boys there under his dad's supervision.

It should hurt more. Kurt isn't under the delusion he and Sam are a sure thing without Blaine in the picture – in the past he's had it made to him awfully clearly how his love-life is never going to match up to his expectations for it – but the fact that he needs Blaine out of the picture at all tells him all he has to know.

"This is good," Kurt says after a too-hot-to-taste mouthful of coffee. He can feel his tongue steaming, pushing it against the roof of his mouth and squeezing the styrofoam cup in his hands until he feels them burn. A moment of private agony, and then, easier, "I think we should break up."

Blaine chokes on his mouthful, coughs. Kurt passes him a napkin and watches him flush red and feign surprise. "That's – are you... Kurt." He shifts in his seat, leaning closer to look into Kurt's eyes for something they don't have. He presses his lips together and takes Kurt's hand, squeezing it in his before asking, lowly, "You're sure?" as though either of them aren't.

Kurt nods, smiling and squeezing back. "Let's be friends," he says, and Blaine smiles back.

Easy, easy.

-

Sam comes back, and Kurt's single, and they're in Kurt's room together alone, and nothing happens. Less than nothing. Negative one thing happens.

There's this terrible, soul-destroying feeling that comes hand-in-hand with the realisation some lovely boy doesn't like him the way he does. Kurt at least thought after so many experiences with it the heartache would dilute, or maybe, if he was lucky, numb entirely. Instead, Sam holds Kurt's pillow to his chest and grins at him over it like nothing has changed from last week, and they watch this show Sam likes (it's awful, it's complete shit; Kurt spent fifty dollars on the boxset and loves it a lot) and Sam says, "Blaine sucks," with a shrug and nothing else, because he has nothing else to say about it.

Kurt sits next to him, stiffly, and thinks of all the boys Sam might like instead of him. Finn or Puck or Mike or some other footballer – guys Kurt can't compare to because they have nothing but differences between them. Better and simpler and hotter, and even though Sam not liking him makes Kurt leave their marathon to sit in the bathroom and take deep, calming, shaky breaths, the thought of how some guy not liking Sam might make Sam feel makes him tear up just to consider.

-

"French is crazy," Sam tells him at lunch, the next day at school. He taps his pen off the table and sits at the glee club's lunch-table, alone, surrounded by textbooks.

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him and sits at his side, an appropriate distance away that's guaranteed not to have any awkward elbow brushing while they eat and therefore no awkward, abrupt bouts of heartache. "Faux," he replies. Sam frowns at him. "I didn't even know you had French."

Sam looks down at the blank page in front of him, then stares at it wide-eyed as though he only just realized it was there and flicks to a page full of his charmingly disproportionate handwriting, hastily. "I just started. This is like, pre-beginners stuff and it's already crazy."

To avoid the obligatory offer of help, Kurt takes a particularly large bite of his sandwich and flicks through the doodles in one of Sam's notebooks while he chews, extra slowly.  He pushes down the thoughts of French with Sam. Frenching Sam. Sam's dick in his underwear when he walks around the house half naked.

It doesn't end up helping, anyway, because Sam leans down until he's caught Kurt's eye and looks an endearing mix of bashfulness and earnestness when he suggests, "You know this stuff, right? Could you, maybe... if it isn't too much hassle or anything..."

Kurt swallows and smiles and has an internal emotional breakdown about the crinkled corners of Sam's eyes.  "Of course," he agrees, and then he has another.

-

It'd be much easier to forget about romantic possibilities with a guy who happens to be gay too if Kurt didn't constantly dream in the five-second memory of Sam's lips on his, his arms warm and so misleadingly tight around him. His dreams always go further, against countertops and slippery bathroom tiles and pressed, warm bedspreads.

Tonight, they're against the kitchen floor. Sam is sucking him off and it's nice because it feels like something they do, it feels like they're boyfriends. He has his hands spread warmly over Kurt's hips, keeping them low, and his bangs messy across his forehead. When Kurt pushes them back he can see Sam's green eyes, the colour deepened, staring out at him while he licks slow strokes of his tongue against the head of Kurt's cock. Kurt moans, hips jerking involuntarily, just enough to slide another half-inch of himself into the slick heat of Sam's mouth.

It's _way_ too much for him to take.

"Sam," he huffs out, and even though it's dark, he can make out Sam's lips quirking, smiling around his dick. They slide lower, drag more of him inside, working him in thorough sucks and laps of his tongue. Kurt throws his head back and grips his own hair to keep from yanking at Sam's.

A hand touches his jaw, and then Sam's pulled off of him. "I want to see you," he mumbles, his throat sounding sore and rough already in a way that makes Kurt's dick twitch where it's held in Sam's other hand. Sam strokes him, lightly. "I want you."

Kurt doesn't want it to end so soon but that's all it takes before he thrusts up helplessly and bumps the tip of his cock against Sam's parted lips, coming hard with a strangled sound he hopes to god nobody heard when he wakes up, sticky and sweaty and completely _exhausted_.

-

Every time Kurt is in unrequited like with a boy it feels like the worst thing ever, except this time, where it definitely is the worst thing ever, without question. It would really help if Sam didn't couple his being really stupidly attractive guy with being a nice guy. He could at least do Kurt the favour of being an incorrigible asshole, or something.

"I thought I'd make dinner tonight," Sam explains, fumbling the tiers of Kurt's apron into a messy knot at his back – and it's a nice back, too. He grins. "It's just me, you and Finn anyway, and you normally cook when it's just the three of us. It isn't really fair."

It isn't, but at the same time, Kurt gets to see Sam fight with Finn for the leftovers of whatever he makes which is embarrassingly enjoyable for him, so he isn't going to complain.

"It's nothing fancy, but," Sam scratches his head, giving Kurt a fleeting, funny look, "I just – wanna help out around here, you know?"

After a pause, Kurt nods. Smiles a little, even. He needs to stop hanging around Sam when all he wants to do is kiss him – just a little, just some soft things. They could forget about it after like they did before. Kurt could kiss another boy with Sam on his mind and pretend it's just as good like he did before.

He reaches out and hugs Sam, pulling away before Sam can reflexively return it. "Thanks," he says, softly, but in his head he repeats an old Santana classic: "This is the worst thing ever, fuck you for being nice about it."

-

They start with the basics. In fact, they stay on the basics for a full hour because Kurt can't get over the way Sam's lips move when he says, "Bonjour." Then Sam starts doing Inspector Clouseau from Pink Panther and the studying session falls apart from there on out.

The funny thing about liking Sam is how easily Kurt can forget he's miserable about it. Sam does that thing where he lies across Kurt's bed, hanging his head off the edge and having conversations with himself in different voices, watching Kurt upside down in the mirror to see if he's laughing. It's just nice. Kurt thinks that when Sam gets his own boyfriend all this fun stuff will end, and then is stops being fun and starts being kind of horrible and shitty instead.

Sam sits up abruptly, his flushed cheeks and spit-slick lips effectively distracting Kurt from his heartache. He looks at Kurt with big eyes. "I was gonna tell my parents this weekend," he informs him in a rush, and Kurt straightens, eyebrows raised.  He fiddles with the corner of Kurt's bedsheets, his teeth pushing at his bottom lip before he says, "Do you mind coming with me? I'd really... It'd be cool if you were there."

"Oh," Kurt says, holding his hands together tight enough to leave red marks and staring wide-eyed at Sam. This is as close as they've gotten to talking about it. He kind of thought Sam might have forgotten all the gay discussions way back when, maybe.

"Actually, I already said I was bringing you, so my mom went to the trouble of thinking of making you dinner already, so. You gotta be there." Sam grins at him with flushed cheeks and the part of Kurt's brain that's still distracted by an extremely vivid dream from the night before can't help but imagine grinding into Sam right here until he's red all, all over. God, this is the worst. 

"Yeah," Kurt agrees. He's being selfish. This is for Sam, who needs his help. His friend, Sam. He smiles and nods.

Sam tackles him back onto the bed and hugs him tight for a moment. It's so sudden and so _physical_ Kurt can't help but think he's imagining it, because he's imagining a lot like it nowadays. 

He's just still and tense in Sam's arms for a moment until Sam pulls away, still smiling with his brow a little furrowed. "I thought we were doing this now," he says, sounding confused. Kurt smiles and awkwardly pats him on the back because he doesn't know what that means.

-

On Friday, Sam pulls both their suitcases to the car despite Kurt's efforts to take his own and packs them away in the trunk before they get in. He's visibly nervous for a moment, and Kurt has a giant speech prepared about coming out and overcoming struggles and general gayness that he quickly goes over in his head one more time before Sam leans in and kisses him kind of hard on the mouth.

Kurt closes his mouth again and stares.

Sam stares back, lips pressed tight together. "I know we only did that once and I'm totally fine with the hugging, the hugging's great, we can hug as long as you want – I won't like, push you into anything." Sam lets out a long sigh, sinking down a little in his seat. "I just really needed that right now. Well, I kind of need it all the time but right now especially, I guess."

Kurt stares. Blinks. "It's okay," he says because _really_ , it's more than okay. It's fucking great.

"Good, awesome." Sam's hand reaches out and hesitates for a minute, suspended in mid-air, before he tangles his fingers with Kurt's and aims a meaningful smile at him. "I'm really glad we're doing this together."

It's also kind of insane. Kurt swallows, looking from their hands to Sam's face to Sam's mouth. "Am I missing something?" he asks, slowly. He squeezes Sam's hands, in reassurance and also just to feel it there, warm in his own. It fits in his.

Sam scratches the back of his neck, shrugging. "I was just gonna come out to them this week but then I thought, what's the point in not telling them I'm dating you, too? They like you. Even Stevie and Stacey like you."

" _Dating_?" Kurt bursts out. 

There's a moment of Sam stumbling over his words and squeezing convulsively around his hand that ends in him accidentally pushing the car horn in. "Are we not calling it that or something?" Sam asks, frowning. He holds Kurt's limp hand in both of his. "'Cause I'd really, really like to date you. And kiss you. But the hugging is totally cool too."

Kurt takes in a deep breath, filtering it out slowly and staring into Sam's earnest face. "Yes," is the only word he can find. Then he swallows, tugging on Sam's hands and feeling breathless. "I think - you should kiss me more. Like, right now."

Nodding, Sam leans in close and he does.


End file.
